Adventure Magazine Cover, November 10, 1924 — page 51: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Casual’s Return twenty miles an hour. Jake _ teetered about and shook the can vigorously, at the same time extending his lower jaw to its fullest reaching power, like a very hungry young bird. This simile is all the more apt since his bald head and crown of red _ hair gave him a rather birdlike appearance. Eadie took a step toward the other, but at that moment the train went around a curve and the chow car, being the last car of all, received quite a snap, like the small boy on the end in the game of crack-the-whip. Eadie was nearly thrown out the door, and Jake was upset entirely upon his side. The contents of the can of jam, their last ad- hesions broken by the shock of Jake’s fall, fell down themselves, not in bits, but all to- gether, and Jake’s mouth being removed from their course, they smote him upon the ear, plop! and mingled very colorfully with his red hair. When the car had returned to an even keel, Jake sat up, rather slowly and clumsily and, inspecting the empty can soberly, moVed it in a circular manner, as one stirs a mug of beer. gJfhen, opening his mouth once more, he raised the can and shook it hopefully. The former contents of the can, falling from their perch above Jake’s ear, disappeared into the opening between collar and neck, where his unbuttoned shirt made a gap. “You ——! bellowed Eadie, leaping across the car. “Are you drunk, too?” Jake turned a calm eye upon him. “No, I ain’t drunk,” he said: “I don’t drink. I haven’t had a drink for years.”’ “You haven’t, huh? Then how did you get all oiled up like this? Who threw this jam all over the floor? If you aren’t drunk, tell me the color of the jam in that can!” Jake bent over the can and inspected it closely, holding it on one side and peering into it as one would into a telescope. “We-e-ell,” he said, “it’s pretty dark in this car.” “You bet it is,” cried the sergeant. ‘‘Where did you get that bar-room smell? You don’t know whether you’re here or there! You fell over when we went around a curve and if you’d been sober you’d cracked your skull on the floor. Where'd you get it? Have you got a canteen full?” “No,” said Jake, “but I know. where I can get yuh a little drink if you want one.’ Eadie pressed his hand to his brow in despair. 49 “T suppose that’s where you got yours!” he cried. “T ain’t had a drink,” said Jake calmly. At Eadie’s gesture of impatience, he looked hurt. “Maybe I’m a little fogged,” he ad- mitted, ‘“‘but I ain’t drunk.” “What fogged your’ asked Eadie bitterly. “Well, ” said Jake, “T was helpin’ you put all them rums in the cars. Oh man, that was funny! You loaded ’em in one side an’ they got right out the other. Well, I was _ helpin’ load ’em in and they all breathed right i in my face an’ give me a second-hand Jag! “Here we come to another station,” said the sergeant, ‘‘and I suppose all this comedy has to be gone through again!” “‘Where’s this?” asked Jake, as the train came to a stop. “T wish it was Avernus!’’ declared Eadie. “Well, it ain’t,” said Jake. “TI can see the name. I ain’t sure if it begins with a B or a P or maybe a R, but anyway, it ain’t a A.” The two sat on the doorsill and let their feet hang. Eadie thought sadly on the prospect of an indefinite stay on the train, totally surrounded by drunken men. A ray of sun pierced the cloud of his mind. “Why, all they had was a canteen full,” he thought, ‘‘and all of them didn’t have that. When that wine is gone they can’t get any more and I won’t have such a hard time keeping order.” This was true. There was not enough wine in the company to get the men be- yond the tuneful stage, although some had early passed from that to the belligerent. Now it seemed that the effects were begin- ning to wear off. Eadie got down and walked up the plat- form. All the soldiers seemed content to stay in the cars here. In one of the rear- most compartments a man with a tenor voice sang. It was impossible to hear his words, but the other men with him roared a chorus at the end of each verse that was perfectly audible. ‘“‘They issue us soap and a wire brush To scrub behind our ears. We ain’t gonna fight, by a —— of a sight, We're the handcuff volunteers.” At the second repetition of this chorus a wrathful form swung from the chow car. to the ground and made for the compartment Comicbook © =